Aimsíodh Grá
by SorchaCahill
Summary: Adrya is plagued by nightmares from the night Arl Howe attacked and killed her family. Alistair proves himself to be more than a friend. One shot. Rated M for content.


Adrya knew she was dreaming, but that didn't stop it from coming. No archdemon haunted her sleep this night; this was much closer to home. Something that she would much rather stay back in the recesses of her mind where she had regulated them.

She was home. Home, at Highever Castle, her home before fire, metal, and betrayal destroyed the life she had known. Before Arl Rendon Howe's jealousy and ambition destroyed everything.

The castle was quiet, the normal hum dimmed now that most of the castle's soldiers had left with Fergus. She was lying on her bed, her mind drifting, when Ghost started to growl. Warning bells and men's shouts rang throughout the castle seconds later. And blood started to run.

Daggers in hand and Ghost at her side, Adrya fought her way through the castle, blood and gore following in her wake. Confusion addled her brain as she recognized the Howe crest on her opponents' shields. Why would the Arl do this? To what end?

A red haze filled her mind. Memory entwined with the dreamscape, the deeper parts of her subconscious ripping apart the known reality and inserting even worse horrors than the ones she had experienced in her waking hours.

The bloodied corpses of her family, both of blood and by choice, littered the hallways and courtyard. Blood wept from the walls. Fire and smoke choked the halls. A part of her desperately wanted to believe that if she found her father, everything would be okay, that reality would reassert itself.

She found him in the pantry, blood and more weeping from his wounds.

"Papa." The old endearment blurted from her lips, one she hadn't called him in years, as she rushed to his side. A strange keening sound filled the room and it took her a moment to realize that it was coming from her.

"Adrya, child-."

The Teyrn never finished his sentence. A crossbow bolt pierced his skull, silencing the Teyrn forever. His hands went limp, his death too quick for even his breath to escape.

"No, no, no, no. Maker, please, no."

"The Maker can't hear your prayers, young Cousland, and even if he did, neither he nor Andraste can save you."

Adrya turned, her hands covered with her father's blood, and found Howe standing in the doorway, a crossbow in hand. She watched, speechless, as he tossed the weapon aside and drew two curved daggers from behind his back and advanced toward her. Ghost charged him, but despite his Mabari prowess, the Arl dispatched the animal with a supernatural ease.

"Now there is no one to stop me from taking what I want." Howe's voice was one voice and yet thousands. It echoed around her and within her.

"I thought about keeping you for myself, but I've since decided that even one Cousland alive is one too many."

The Arl's daggers stabbed at and through her, spilling the last of the Cousland blood onto the pantry floor. She fought against them, but for all her skill, she couldn't deflect his attacks. Her arms tired, her legs soon following.

The cold of the pantry floor seeped through her armor into her skin. She was so very cold as she looked up to see Howe's face hovering above her.

Adrya watched, paralyzed, as Howe raised a dagger to her throat. The gleam of madness flashed in his eyes, the dark pools drawing her in. Cold Veridium slid into her flesh, rending it from her bones, peeling it back a layer at a time.

Light flooded her vision and hurtled her into darkness. Adrya burst out of sleep, a scream dying in her throat.

Light from the campfire flickered at her through the thin walls of her tent. She could hear Sten's rumbling snores through the camp. Ghost chuffed quietly in his sleep. It seemed that she was the only one awake.

Rubbing shaking hands over her face, Adrya tried to pull herself together. She couldn't afford to fall apart, not now. Too much was at stake.

Dream-induced sweat cooled on her skin, leaving her shivering and stinking of fear. Remembering the stream not too far from the camp, Adrya quietly exited her tent, careful not to wake the members of her party. She needed to escape, even if for only a little while. She needed to be clean.

Adrya held her breath as she moved away from the camp, praying that the silent forms in her companions' tents remained that way.

The stream gurgled as she crouched at the bank, scooping water onto her face, wishing she could submerge her entire body. She couldn't shake the dream. Being rooted in fact, in memory, made it all the more potent. She wondered what black recess of her brain held the horror she had just experienced and why it had decided to come forth now.

"You shouldn't leave the camp alone, especially unarmed. You know better."

She hadn't heard Alistair's approach, which was even more proof of how shaken she was.

"I don't need a nursemaid, Alistair," she said, keeping her back to him, praying to the Maker that her voice wasn't as shaky as it felt.

"True, I do not exactly fit the role precisely, don't have the body for it."

"Go away, Alistair. I'm in no mood for your humor." Adrya made to stand up, but suddenly found herself pulled up roughly to her feet. Was she still dreaming? Alistair never manhandled anyone, especially her.

"Let me go," she growled, wanting nothing more than to be left alone.

"In the mood or not, you will tell me what's going on. It isn't like you to wander off, unarmed and clad in little more than your smalls. Not that I mind the view, but I'll know what is bothering you."

To her horror, Adrya felt her eyes well up and the empty hollowness in her chest burst. She tried to clamp down on it, to rein it all back in, but her body and her emotions betrayed her as the tears started to spill over.

Alistair seemed to brace himself, just as surprised as she was at her unexpected burst of emotion.

"Darkspawn nightmares are never pleasant, but I've never seen you react to one like this."

"No," she choked. "Not Darkspawn. My parents. Howe. Death."

His head bent toward hers until their foreheads touched. She breathed in his scent and felt a sense of calm distilling into her.

"Maker's breathe, I'm a fool. How could I forget? You are so strong, so beautiful that I sometimes forget what horrors you experienced before joining the Wardens."

Adrya slipped her arms around him, drawing herself closer to him. She was shivering again, and he was a pillar of warmth and strength to draw upon.

"You may be a fool at times Alistair, but you are far from stupid," she breathed into his chest, the steady beat of his heart comforting her. His scent of leather and something else that she couldn't name calmed both body and mind.

She knew that she was crossing the unspoken line between them as she sank further into his arms, taking comfort, but she was near past caring. There was so much death and evil in the world, that what little glimmer of light that came into her life she snatched at it. This was one of those moments.

Since Howe's attack and her parents' murder, rage had filled the emptiness within her. If Duncan hadn't recruited her into the Wardens, Adrya was sure that she would have gone mad, but it was Alistair who had truly saved her. Alistair brought her a sense of peace that was difficult to explain. In his arms she found solace, his embrace gave her peace.

"I never had a family, not in the sense that you did. Never thought of myself as much more than the cast-off bastard that I am, until I joined the Grey Wardens that is. But you, you knew your family. And to loose them, like that, well, I don't know how you manage to get through the day."

When Adrya didn't respond, he continued, smoothing a hand over her hair and down her neck, trying to calm the demons that plagued her.

"The Wardens were the closest thing to a family I've ever had, and they're gone now. All gone, except for you."

The silence that followed hung in the night. Adrya felt her heart hiccup. She didn't want to look up, to look at his face, but was unable to stop herself.

His face was half-shrouded in shadow, his amber-brown eyes glinting in the moonlight, but she could clearly see the expression on his face, even if she couldn't understand what it meant.

"Alistair."

"Shhh. I must say this," he said caressing her check, his finger running down the curve of it. "There is this connection between us; you feel it, yes? It's been steadily growing; every time I touch or look at you it grows stronger. What I'm about to say sounds somewhat ridiculous, especially to my ears, but I want to be with you."

Adrya stared up at him; saw the hope, the apprehension in his eyes. She also saw love there. It scared her, but it also gave her strength.

"You know Alistair, you are my only family too. My brother, my parents, they are all dead. You are the only one left; the only one who really matters."

"I was thinking in a manner of something other than a brother."

His kiss, even though expected, came so swift that Adrya gasped into it. Alistair took it in as his hands delved into her hair, angling her mouth to better fit his. Her hands clutched his shirt, fisting the material between her fingers.

She could feel his heart beating against her hands, her own pacing his. Something fluttered within her, something that she barely recognized. He had kissed her before, but the tone of this one was different. The music was sweeter, deeper. It drew her in as warmth spread up from her toes.

Alistair pulled away ever so slightly, causing a soft moan to escape past her lips. His breath mingled with hers as she felt his eyes pour into hers.

"Well? More than a brother, yes?"

A half smile rose upon her lips as she stared up at him. His fingers tips, rough from years of swordplay, ghosted down her face and threaded back into her hair, loosening the leather strap that bound it.

Adrya shivered at the touch, relishing it even though she knew she shouldn't. They were at war and needed to be sharp and focused and not let themselves be distracted by emotion. But with Alistair, with this man, she was unable to resist.

"I know what you're thinking, but you're wrong. If we don't take these moments, if we don't let ourselves be _human_, we risk becoming the very thing we fight. I love you Adrya. I think I have since I first saw you in Ostagar. Your haunted face drew me in. Your beauty, seemingly so delicate, hides such a strength that you humble me."

"Alistair, I -."

"No, let me finish. What I'm trying to say is that you don't need to be so strong all the time. You'll break if you do, and that, that I don't think I can handle. I know you don't need anyone to take care of you, but I would like to help you carry some of the burden."

He dipped his head, his breath steaming against her cool skin, his lips and tongue nibbling down the column of her throat to the juncture at her shoulder. There he nipped the skin, causing her to gasp aloud and her head to tip back. Liquid warmth grew in her core and spread throughout her body. His touch caused her limbs to go languid and limp, but the hot ball of pleasure overwhelmed any anxiety she may have felt at being disarmed so.

Alistair gripped the edges of her nightshirt and pulled it above her hips, dragging her fully against him. Adrya gasped, not used to him acting this forcibly, not like this. She could feel his arousal straining against his trews and groaned in response, reveling in the feel of his battle-hardened body pressed against hers.

Strong fingers dug into her bared thighs, lifting her so that her legs wrapped around his waist. The rough bark of a tree slammed into her back, giving him better leverage to reach all of her. Adrya gripped his hair and pulled his face to hers as lips and tongues tangled with each other. His hands roamed freely over her, leaving no area untouched, sliding under her shirt to cup her breast, his thumbs grazing over her hardened nipples.

Lightning shot down from her breasts and ignited something within her that pulled a throaty moan from her. Encouraged, Alistair tilted her hips, pressing further against her. Adrya's eyes rolled back into her head, not used to this feeling, the emotions that Alistair pulled from her.

"Maker's breath. Alistair, where did you...?"

"Just because I was raised in the Chantry doesn't mean I'm not familiar with what happens between men and women. Templars _do_ talk you know, and Wardens, well, we're a lively bunch." Adrya felt his lips curve against her skin. "You'll have to tell me what you think of this."

She suddenly found herself flat on her back, her nightshirt torn over her head. Alistair's hands roamed wildly as he sank a knee between her legs. Her smalls seemed to melt away and she was completely naked beneath him while he was still mostly clothed. There was something incredibly erotic about it, rendering her completely disarmed.

Alistair placed open-mouthed kisses down her chest, cupping her breasts, plumping them up for his eager mouth. He elicited another groan from her when he took the nipple into his mouth, using mouth, teeth and tongue.

"Too. Many. Clothes," Adrya rasped, fisting his shirt in her hands, pulling it insistently up his body, needing the feel of his skin against hers. Alistair obliged her as he lifted his body slightly to allow the rough cotton shirt over his head and let his body settle over his. The delicious feeling of skin pressed against skin loosened his grip on his control. His hips ground hard against her, causing him to growl heavily, and he was in sudden agreement that there were too many clothes.

Pulling himself up, he tore at the laces of his trews that he had hastily thrown on when Adrya's cries had awoken him, briefly wondering why he had bothered. Shucking them off, he pressed his naked body fully upon hers, relishing in each point of contact.

Alistair slid a hand down her taut stomach, feeling her muscles quiver and tremble beneath his touch. As his fingers delved between her legs, fingering her wetness, Adrya let out a hoarse cry as she felt her body begin to shatter around her. Pressure built up as his fingers circled and teased, her wetness drenching his hand.

"Alistair. Please."

Unable to deny her, unable to deny himself any longer, Alistair cupped her face in his hands. His thumbs stroked over her high cheekbones. Her eyelids fluttered open and closed as he pressed his lips against hers softly, settling more deeply into her.

"Adrya. Adrya, sweetling, look at me."

Adrya lifted heavy eyelids, her velvet blue-green eyes near blind with pleasure. With some difficulty, she focused on the man hovering above her. His eyes gazed down at her adoringly, and a warmth of a different kind spread through her. Under his gaze, she had never felt more cherished, more loved.

"I love you, you know that, right?"

"Of course," she breathed, heat flushing up her body as she felt his hardened length press up against her wet entrance. Her breath came in hitching gasps the more he pressed into her. "I, Alistair, I-."

"Hush, love. I know. I'd not hurt you for all of Thedas, but -."

Adrya pulled his face to hers, capturing his lips with hers. She limed her tongue across them until his met hers. Alistair's hand smoothed down her body to hitch her leg up around his waist. While his tongue danced with hers, he entered her slowly, seeking her warmth.

Heat and pressure built up within her quickly as he pressed further in and began to move. It was unlike any other sensation she had ever felt and she wanted more. Flinging her arms around him, she rocked to his rhythm, matching his pace and drawing him in further.

Alistair murmured words against her hot skin, but in her state of need, she couldn't understand them. Where she was, words were unimportant, only her need for him mattered.

His pace quickened, each thrust driving in further and further, pushing her higher and higher. The feel of him inside her was indescribable; she never wanted it to end. Her legs came up and wrapped tightly around his waist as one of his hands gripped her hair and the other dipped between her legs to flick a finger against her swollen nub.

She thought that she had experienced pleasure before, but it was nothing compared to this as he held her and shattered her mind.

His name burst from her lips as she pinnacled and his mouth was there to catch it, accepting her plea and making it his own. She arched into him as his arms tightened around her and he chased his own release.

As the haze of pleasure slowly faded, Alistair shifted them so she lay splayed over him, her limbs pleasantly weak. Drawing light circles over his chest, Adrya sighed, happy for the first time in a long time. The rage she had held in for so long dissipated, tamed by the man beneath her. Contentment was too weak of a word for how she felt, but for now, it would do.


End file.
